


The Great Detective

by lawofmoriarty



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawofmoriarty/pseuds/lawofmoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beautiful, valiant, generous and supremely unchaste, The Great Detective is ahead of her time.  She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it.  Her swordsmanship rivals that of the greatest warriors; she could outsmart a quick-witted trickster or a seasoned scientist.  Her name is Madame Vastra, and she (along with her illustrious human companion) is the sort who lives out tales which were made to last through the ages.  Her skill and intelligence allows her to defeat an agent of the Tong of the Black Scorpion, kill the infamous Jack the Ripper, and leave a lasting impression upon an eventually-famous Victorian author, who will later go on to immortalize her exploits as fictional in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> The warning for "graphic depictions of violence" is just a precaution. The first chapter does involve a decapitation, but the description isn't terribly vivid.
> 
> This is a work in progress. I actually intend to post many chapters regarding the pair's adventures. Enjoy!

“Do you know how to wield a sword?”  A stupid question, really, coming from such an otherwise intelligent young woman.

 _No, of course I don’t,_ Jenny thought to herself.  _I’m only a match girl._   “No, Miss.”

The veiled figure pulled a long blade from a scabbard that was mostly concealed by her skirt.  “Well, try anyway,” she said, handing it to her.  “And please, watch where you swing.  I don’t particularly feel like being decapitated today.  Him, on the other hand – well, feel free.”

Jen nodded quickly and turned to see the man that had grabbed her on her walk home from the match factory.  She raised the weapon and was about to swing before a voice stopped her. 

“Wait,” the veiled woman said, drawing another sword and sauntering towards the older man.  “Identify yourself.”

“I will disclose neither my name nor business in such delicate company,” the man stated, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his own weapon as a precautionary measure.

“Sorry, delicate company?  As a woman?  I must say, your implications of my fragility offend me, Ho Ming.”

“I see that your request for identification was unnecessary.”

“Indeed.  Now, I fully intend upon freeing this young girl, so you have a choice.  You can take that scorpion venom pill that I know you keep inside the lining of your clothing, or I can kill you with my own swordsmanship and bloodlust.  Which would you prefer?”

Ho’s eyes shifted from the veiled woman to Jenny and, as quickly as the scabbard would allow, drew his own sword and swung it at the woman, who blocked the attack without a second thought. 

“Now, my darling, surely you didn’t think you could rid yourself of me so easily.”  She swung at his head and Ho only barely managed to shield the side of his face with his blade. 

Jenny moved backwards to watch the ensuing scene, which proceeded far too quickly for her to keep track of what was going on at each moment.  At one point, she was behind the man, and there was a lull in the action of the duel as each party blocked the other, and the woman yelled, “Now!” before ducking out of the way as quickly as she could.  The one-word command was a sort of trigger for Jen, and in a rush of adrenaline she swung her sword at the attacker’s neck, successfully removing his head from the rest of his body with only minimal blood splatter.

The corpse fell to the floor and the head rolled to the feet of the mysterious woman.  “Why, you’re a natural.  What is your name?”

Jen let her sword clatter to the floor, shock from what she had just done beginning to sink in.  “J-Jennifer,” she stuttered.  “Jennifer Flint.”

The woman let out a _tsk_ at the dropped weapon and moved to retrieve it.  “I’ll call you Jenny, if that’s quite alright.”  She picked up the sword and inspected it.  “You’ve dented the cross-guard.  Nothing integrity-compromising, but still; in the future, do try to care for the thing which just saved your life, yes?”

“Are you referring to the sword or the one who gave it to me?”

“It depends.”  The woman removed her veil and Jenny had to suppress a gasp because of what she saw.  “Which would you prefer?”

“I – er, either one.”

“I know that you work in the match factory not too far from here.  Don’t you think you’d make better money as a housemaid?”

Jenny found herself caught between not wanting to stare and trying to maintain eye contact.  “I’ve neither the experience nor a Mistress.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” She extended a green, scaled hand, and Jenny shook it.  “You may call me Madame Vastra.”


	2. A Falling Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new suitor attempts to keep company with Miss Vastra.

“Is there something you need, Miss?” Jenny asked the woman, who was standing in the corner of the drawing room as she dusted the tops of portraits hanging on the wall.  She hadn’t been a maid for very long, but even then she was certain that watching the help as they worked was generally considered in poor taste.

“There is, actually.  I met a young man at a ball last week who wishes to keep company with me.  Obviously, my father isn’t available, but I still require the assistance of a chaperone.”

“But Miss,” she asked, still somewhat confused by the courting rituals of the upper class, “Mustn’t you have a family member to chaperone you?”

“Jenny, you know what drawing room portraits are generally used for, correct?”

“You told me yesterday that they were the last pictures of family members that had passed.”

“Very good.  Now, look at the photographs you are dusting.  Who do you see?”

She paused and let her hand with the feather duster drop to her side.  “I see a mother, a father, three sisters, and a brother.”

“I’d like to congratulate you, firstly.  All of my maids previous have been unable to differentiate the genders of Silurians when not in traditional English dress. You, on the other hand – well, I’ll simply say that you’re one of the cleverer mammals.  That said, you see each member of my family in these photographs because every one of them is no longer with us.  You will simply have to do.”

“As you wish, then.  Do you –” Jenny feared that her question may cross over into overly-personal territory, but she was curious for some odd reason.  “Do you fancy him?”

Vastra sighed.  “Most women of my social class have married themselves off by the age of twenty-three at the very latest.  I, on the other hand, have had a bit of trouble.  At the age of eighty-two, I am still unwed.”

 _That doesn’t answer my question,_ Jenny thought, but she didn’t want to pry any further than she already had.  Most people didn’t even find it proper to speak to their help, let alone ask them to chaperone.  “You don’t look eighty-two.  You look about twenty.  Why have you had trouble?”

“Many suitors find my –” She stopped herself, looking for the right word to use. “— _verdigris_ to be off-putting.  And I live longer than you mammals do.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Miss, any man who finds you to be anything less than perfect is probably better off in an institution than in your drawing room.”

She smiled at her maid.  “Many thanks for your kind words.  Let us hope that he isn’t entirely mad as you suggest, for he was a naval surgeon.  I would prefer that someone so acquainted with a scalpel be right in the head as well.  Though it looks to me as though insanity would be a blessing.  I am only keeping company to remain in good standing in the proper social circles.”

“The poor doctor.” Jenny laughed and returned to dusting the photographs.  “I’m sure that he was very excited having captured your attention.  His hopes will soon be dashed.”

“I’m certain that he’ll manage.  He’ll have to make a very strong case for himself, you know.  Otherwise, I have no intention of allowing him to –”

Vastra’s sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Jenny jumped to answer it as her Mistress quickly pulled her veil over her face.  “Miss, he’s arrived,” she called across the drawing room before letting him in, taking his coat and hat to hang by the door.

“Wonderful,” Vastra said.  “Arthur, this is Miss Flint, our chaperone for this evening.  Jenny, this is Doctor Doyle.  Both of you, please have a seat.”

“A true pleasure,” Arthur said cordially before sinking into a red plush armchair across from the lady with whom he was keeping company.  “Such intriguing representations of your family that you have.  The paintings look almost like photographs.  And you’ve an, er, interesting collection over there, haven’t you?”  He pointed to the swords hanging on the far wall.

“Ah, those.  Each is of great significance to me, you’ll soon find.  This one was used in my first duel.  I won, of course.  With that one, I fought in a great battle against a group of surprisingly unintelligent young pirates.  The one you see on the highest mount is quite special, as it was used to decapitate Ho Ming, a rather infamous agent of the Tong of the Black Scorpion.  Oddly enough, that fatal blow was not of my own delivery, isn’t that right, Jenny?”

Jenny froze.  “I –” _Special?  Why was the sword any more special than the others?_  “That’s correct, Miss.  I used that sword to kill Ho Ming.”  She flushed a vibrant red, a feeling washing over her that she should not be disclosing such information to the gentleman.

“Your stories are as illustrious as your character,” Arthur said calmly.  “Almost a thing of fiction, I should think.”

Vastra sat on a nearby chaise lounge and poured three cups of tea, offering one to each of her companions.  “I should hope you don’t find my extensive knowledge of weaponry too intimidating, doctor.”  She sipped from her tea and opened her fan – which Jenny hadn’t noticed until it was used – halfway, at which Arthur frowned ever-so-slightly.

“Not at all, Miss,” he said.  "Though I do have another question, if you don’t mind – how did you know about the Tong?”

“I try my best to remain informed about organisations which may potentially bring harm to myself or to those whom I care about.  That, and,” a mischievous grin spread across her face as though she was testing him, “I take a great interest in _politics.”_

“Politics?  A lady of your stature shouldn’t concern herself with such things.”

Vastra snapped her fan shut.  “I beg your pardon?”

Arthur bit nervously at the inside of his cheek.  “Certainly your high level of education and your flawless swordsmanship was masculine enough –”

“Masculine?” Vastra interrupted.  “Mr. Doyle, you are a guest in my home.  Your affront to my character is certainly enough for me to ask you to leave me at this very moment.”

“My apologies, Miss.  Perhaps Miss Flint might be a better suitor than I.”

Vastra set the fan on the tea table in front of her.  “It would seem so.  Good day, doctor.  I wish you only the best.”

“Good day.  Miss Vastra.  Miss Flint.”  With that, he donned his coat, put on his hat, and departed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my headcanons is that ACD attempted to court Vastra prior to writing his stories, but the pair obviously didn't work out. This would explain why he wrote Sherlock Holmes as such a rude character (and one whom he personally loathed) with an innate aversion from the opposite sex. However, in spite of his anger, he pined for what could have been, which is why he wrote Watson to be similar to himself (i.e. a surgeon and writer).


	3. Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny learns the subtleties of the upper class.

“If it helps anything, Miss, I didn’t like him, either,” Jenny offered, taking a final sip of her tea.

“Of course you didn’t.  You were displaying all of the naturally occurring signs of jealousy.”  Vastra removed her veil, picking up her fan once more and opening it fully before waving it at herself.

“I’m sorry?”

“You took a position between him and me, though the seat on my other side was closer to you.  This alone is a primitive signal of protection, but paired with the dilation of your pupils when close to me and the look of satisfaction on your face when you realised that he had made a mess of himself –”

“Now, hold on, what are you trying to imply?”

“Jenny, you are attracted to me in a nature that is expected from a lady like yourself to be directed towards a fine young gentleman.”

“You think I fancy you?”

“Wrong,” Vastra said, continuing to wave her fan.  “I know that you do.”

“You also taught me that women of your class use their fans as a tool of flirtation.”

“Correct.”

“And you’re using it right now.  Even more than you did in the presence of Doctor Doyle.”

Vastra smiled.  “My, I did find a clever one, didn’t I?”


End file.
